http://www.benybont.co.uk/ CHECKPOINT by Raymond Humphreys.

Edited and with exercises by Petru Iamandi

Editura Institutul European, Iai, 2006

LITERARY FOCUS: Setting Pumlumon

Hypothermia. That was one of the words echoing around his mind. He knew with an icy certainty that now it was creeping upon him, dulling his senses, slowing his movements, all the time urging him to lie down quietly on this dome of a mountain and be done with it all. If. That was the other word. If he had worn warmer clothes. If he had turned back at the first sign of mist. If he hadnt fallen and cracked his head on that boulder. If he hadnt left the warmth of the Dyffryn Castell Hotel for what should have been not much more than stroll to the top of Pen Pumlumon Fawr 1 on a fine December morning He did not know whether he had been on the mountain for hours or days. He only knew that now it was dark, and that the fog had given way to a sheeting rain, raking through his thin sweater and gnawing away at what was left of his consciousness. Nor did he know when he had first seen the light. In truth, he hadnt seen it at all, but rather became half-aware of a glow from below, and was drawn to it by the last frail moth of hope fluttering within him. As he came nearer, he could see that the light, a poor trembling thing, was coming from the window of a stone-built farmhouse. He called it a window but really it was no more than a cracked wooden shutter, rattling in a roughly-made frame as the wind and rain pounded against the building. It seemed to take him hours to reach the house, his whole being fixed upon its stark image and the thought that no matter what, he must go on putting one slow-motion foot in front of the other until he reached it. Now something else touched the fringe of his dimming and confused senses, which for so long had known only darkness, cold, and the dull pain that lay heavily on his chest. It was, he slowly realised, the reek of animals. As at last he found himself clinging to the end-wall of the house, he could hear them, too: a shuffling of heavy feet in straw and a muted lowing.
1

The name of a mountain in Mid Wales. At one time it was thought to be the highest, but now that accurate measurements are possible it is known that there are a number of others that exceed it. The name is usually rendered in English Plynlimon.

Even in his half-alive state it seemed odd to him that there were animals in the house, but he knew that he must reach the far end of the building, where he had seen the feeble light and where, he could see now, smoke swirled from a chimney, telling surely of human help and safety. Step by painful step he made it to the heavy wooden door, and flapped weakly against it with the last of his failing strength. There was no answer, and he tasted a bitterness rising in his throat as the cruelty of his fate became clear to him. He lost consciousness, and drifted off into oblivion. * At first there was a flickering redness, nothing more. Then, slowly, he became aware of his own person: still, cold, and seemingly tightly bound by something. With an effort he forced his eyes open, and the redness was replaced by the blurred image of a tiny flame, just a few feet from his face. His eyes focused, and he could see that the flame belonged to something akin to a candle, a reed held in place by a metal contraption. The tight binding that he had felt upon him turned out to be layer upon layer of coarse blankets, all wrapped firmly around him. He was in a bed, an old iron thing. The little flame barely illuminated the tiny, low-ceilinged room, but he could see that it contained another, smaller, bed, even older-looking than this one, and two heaps of ragged clothes that probably served the same purpose. Then, while he was still taking in his strange surroundings, something else loomed out of the darkness toward him. It was the face of a woman. She was young and delicately fine in appearance, but worn-looking. Her fair skin was drawn just a little too tightly across her high cheekbones for her face, oddly framed in a white bonnet, to be called pretty. But her eyes were a intense blue, and were lit by an infinite kindness as they concernedly searched his own. Popeth yn iawn, nawr bach.2 I-I dont - Dydw i -.3 He had little enough Welsh at the best of times; now his memory baulked at the task of finding the words. He tried again: Dydw i ddim yn siarad Cymraeg,4 he managed to stutter out, hoping that he was saying that he didnt speak Welsh. Saesneg?5 No, Im from Swansea. Rwyn...rwyn dod o 6 Swansea...o Abertawe. The effort was too much for him. His eyelids drooped, and he sighed deeply.
2 3 4 5 6

Everythings alright now, little one bach or little one is used as a term of endearment here. I dont speak Welsh. English? I come from from Swansea.

Paid a phoeni, paid a phoeni.7 She smiled at him, put a finger to her lips, and noiselessly left the room. When she had left, he started to gather his thoughts. In fact, considering his recent ordeal, his thoughts seemed strangely lucid, and before long they were full of questions. Where was he? Who was the woman, and why was she dressed as if she belonged to a different era? What on earth were cattle and horses doing inside the house? Before many minutes had passed, the woman was back in the room. He heard no step on the stair, and again she seemed to appear before him without warning. In her hands was a carved wooden tray, on which she carried a steaming pottery bowl. She sat down beside him on the bed, and without a word started to feed him some kind of broth from a wooden spoon. She fed him patiently, easing tiny drops of the liquid through his numbed lips. The broth was watery stuff, but hot and salty. It seemed to work directly on his system, and before long he began to feel some stirrings of life within his aching frame. When the bowl was half-empty, he tried to speak to her. This time he abandoned his attempt to speak in Welsh, letting out a tumble of questions in English. The woman seemed not to understand at all, waiting quietly as he spoke, as if his words had little to do with her. Then, when he had exhausted himself, she smiled her deep warm smile, and allowed those blue eyes to look steadily into his for a long moment. She offered him her hand, but when he tried to reach out for it, he felt nothing. He told himself he was still suffering from exposure or worse, and was very tired. He closed his eyes and slept. * When he opened his eyes again, sunlight was streaming into the room. He was still beneath his heavy load of blankets, but now he could feel the warmth they gave. The room seemed much larger in the light of day, and he was surprised to see that someone must have removed the other bed whilst he slept. Nor were there now piles of clothes on the floor, and altogether the room seemed tidier and newer, belonging to this century rather than some distant one. He felt a gentle pressure on his hand, and realised that the woman was still holding it. He looked up at her, and saw again the kindly light of the eyes that had, he knew, kept him from sliding into the abyss. We thought we were losing you last night, young man. Diw,8 but you were just a breath away from the end when we found you. You do speak English!
7

Dont worry, dont worry. God.

Of course I do. Ydych chin hoffi siarad Cymraeg?9 No, English is OK. But last night we were speaking in Welsh, or at least I was trying to. Last night? Last night you wouldnt be speaking anything to anyone. Now then, you still need your rest this morning. Doctors coming back to look at you in a minute. Her tone was chiding, but still she held his hand tightly. Strength and vigour seemed to be flowing directly into him from the plump firmness of her hand. Strange, that hand had seemed so different, more frail, last night when she had held it out to him. Then he realised that other things were different about her. This morning she seemed older, but comely and with a fine glow to he cheeks. Her dress, too, was different; still dark, but now the material seemed richer, and the odd little bonnet had gone. He looked more closely at her face. Yes, those pale blue eyes were unmistakable. All the rest must all have been a trick of the light, or the spawn of a fevered brain. But still he had spoken to her last night. He wanted to speak to her now, didnt want her to go away. Not just yet. It was lucky I managed to get as far as your house last night. But you didnt .My husband found you. I reached the house. Im sure I did. I remember getting to the door and- Well, you reached a house, that you did, if you can still call it a house now its all but fallen down. My husband found you by Pwll Uchaf.10 Its nearly a mile from here. This is Pwll Isaf.11 Nobodys lived at the old place since my great-grandmothers day. But no more talking now, Ill get you something that will warm the cockles of your heart. He waited, a thousand unanswered questions crowding in on him. After a few minutes, he heard a weighty tread on the staircase outside the bedroom, and the woman returned. She carried a steaming white bowl on an elaborately carved tray. Where did you get that tray? Well, funny you should ask really. Its after my great-grandmother. The one who lived at Pwll Uchaf. Diw, youre full of questions, you are. But all the questions had been answered. He looked up, and now it was no surprise to see another woman standing behind his benefactor. She was thinner, younger, a little pinched from the hard life she had led. In the sunlight, she was faded, frail, and but a pale shadow of the other. Yet there could be no mistaking the likeness, the wonderful blue eyes. He smiled. And both women smiled back at him.
9

Would you like to speak in Welsh? A house name The Upper Pool. A house name The Lower Pool.

10 11

STUDY QUESTIONS Recalling 1. What were the effects of hypothermia on the narrator? 2. What was the weather like on the mountain? 3. What made the narrator think there were people inside the farmhouse? 4. What was the first thing he saw in the house? 5. Describe the room in which the narrator was lying. 6. What language did the first woman speak? 7. What was different about the room when the narrator woke up? 8. What was different about the woman? 9. Where had the womans husband found the narrator? Interpreting 1. What senses did the narrator perceive the surroundings through? 2. List the details in the second part of the story that point to the fact that the narrator found himself in the past. 3. Why didnt the narrator feel anything when he tried to reach for the womans hand? 4. Think of what happened to the narrator in the second part. Was it only a dream? 5. Who was the younger woman? 6. Why did the narrator say that all the questions had been answered? Extending 1. Explain the four if sentences in the second paragraph. 2. Think of one commonplace object a tray or a jug, for example, and try to imagine the impression it would make on someone who had no idea what it was. What possible uses might it suggest to such a person? LITERARY FOCUS Setting The setting of a story is the time and place of the story. It may include the historical period in which the story takes place, the geographical area in which it occurs, the specific place of the action, and even the time of day and the weather. In a speculative story the time can usually be established by mentioning a date. However, the date will not mean much without some supporting information. If the story is set in the future, the author will provide some information about what has happened between the present day and the day of the story. If the story is set in the past, the author will remind the reader what kinds of things were happening around that time. In alternative histories (dealing with events which might have unfolded if some incident in history turned out differently) the date of the story is important because it will be associated with events other than those which took place in the known world. If such a story is set in the present day, the present in question need not be the readers present and the reader will be made aware of that.

In a speculative story the space can usually be established by mentioning a place-name. The place-name serves to let the reader know where he is and what kind of story he is likely to be dealing with. The more bizarre a place-name is the more firmly it is distanced from the here and now. As with dates, place-names are rarely adequate in themselves to create a sense of place; they will need further information as soon as possible so as not to confuse the reader. In order to establish the space of the story, the author will describe the first scene from an objective point of view, paying appropriate attention to matters of geographical detail. Or he will have the main character tell the reader what he sees as he looks about him. 1. Does this story have only one setting? Justify your answer. 2. Is the particular setting essential, or could the story have happened in any other place? VOCABULARY Writers use vivid verbs to create dramatic pictures and a sense of motion. Lively verbs have punch, energy, and emotional colour. They allow the reader to perceive fully what is described. Throughout Pumlumon, the author uses such verbs that convey the special character of the actions they represent. For example, he writes, the wind and rain pounded against the building rather than hit against the building. Use the following verbs taken from the story to write a paragraph about the sea: flap, flutter, gnaw, rake, rattle, swirl. GRAMMAR The Same Word as Different Parts of Speech There are many words in English that may be used as more than one part of speech. The hard thing about them is that they can be classified by part of speech only when you see them in sentences. Identify the same word used as different parts of speech in the sentences below and decide what part of speech it is. 1. If he hadnt fallen and cracked his head on that boulder. 2. He called it a window but really it was no more than a cracked wooden shutter, rattling in a roughly-made frame as the wind and rain pounded against the building. 3. It seemed to take him hours to reach the house, his whole being fixed upon its stark image and the thought that no matter what, he must go on putting one slow-motion foot in front of the other until he reached it. 4. We thought we were losing you last night, young man. 5. Now something else touched the fringe of his dimming and confused senses, which for so long had known only darkness, cold, and the dull pain that lay heavily on his chest. 6. Then, slowly, he became aware of his own person: still, cold, and seemingly tightly bound to something. 7. Then, when he had exhausted himself, she smiled her deep warm smile, and allowed those blue eyes to look steadily into his for a long moment. 8. But no more talking now, Ill get you something that will warm the cockles of your heart. COMPOSITION 1. Rewrite the last part of the story with the younger woman as narrator.

2. When someone close to you is no longer near, you may suddenly remember many small things about that person that are dear to you. Write about the small, endearing qualities or habits of a special person you would remember if that person were far away.